


Better By Myself

by Coop_Scoop



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: AU, Fix-It of Sorts, Kissing, M/M, Nairobi lives, Panic Attacks, Sex, Talk of torture, Torture, berlin lives au, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25558621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coop_Scoop/pseuds/Coop_Scoop
Summary: Berlin has spent the last three years being held and tried to make talk, but all it took was seeing one person and he knew something was going to change. Be it him breathing or being outside again, he wasn't sure but either one was better than what he was currently living. Haunted by his lifes biggest mistake.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote, palermo | Martín Berrote/Helsinki | Dirko Dragic (mentioned)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Better By Myself

Andrés hated that he found himself here, even after being shot at and thinking he was going to get one good shot to the chest that would end it quickly. He was alive. Stuck in some Military hospital prison place. Where they had spared no cost, getting people in operating on him as often as they saw fit. Making sure they were always male, which made sense as they had researched him as much as they could, finding out about his many wives and lovers; who had all been female. Well as far as they knew. 

He took a deep breath, something he couldn’t do before they had realised that his lungs were, in fact, the main reason he was sick. Not that he had his mothers disease, but the medication he had was pushing his lungs to fail. 

Although it did make him swear to always get a second opinion if he ever got out of this place. 

He sighed, he was in his chair. It was slightly padded, keeping him in place with restaurants he had never seen before. Forcing his legs up so his weight was resting on the tips of his toes, his back strapped to keep it straight never quite touching the back of the chair, and his arms kept down the sides of it.

They never did more than try to work out the names of the people with him. The ones they didn’t know anything about but somehow vague descriptions of their faces and codenames. They had gone far enough to tell him they would take them all in safely if he let them know their names. Make sure that no harm came to them. And he knew that was a lie, they said he was fine. That he had been helped. 

Even if they had given him only enough pain relief during his time of healing to take the edge off, telling him he could get more if he just told them a few secrets. But three years of this and they were no closer to finding out what they didn’t already know. The did not understand that while they seemed to be complete strangers, they had become family in one way or another. 

One thing was always plaguing him though, the thought of them finding Martín. He was strong. He would survive this because he hadn’t had anything to do with what they had done in the Mint. But if they hurt him, Andrés could see himself screaming anything they wanted to know so they didn’t hurt him. 

He hadn’t spent a single day since not thinking about what he had done to him. Knowing that he had listened to his brother, made the mistake he would take to his grave and sadly now he had no clue when that would be. 

A guard came in. He was the worst in this place, rough enough to hurt but never left a mark. It was the same man who was in charge of keeping his personal hygiene adequate. Had ‘mistakenly’ cut the skin around his ears, on his cheeks and scrubbed his skin so hard that stitches had ripped. But he couldn’t say a thing. 

He was released from the chair, not able to stretch before cuffs were slipped over his hands, banding around his waist and linking his feet. He took a deep breath, tasting the slightly warm damp air that he had got used too. He started walking down hallways, passing other men and women who were being led around at the same time. He didn’t really look at faces, but his eyes kept darting up. Like they knew there was a reason he had to lookout. 

He was finally being led to the next room he would be interviewed in. 

The woman, Sierra, there was now heavily pregnant. He had watched her stomach grow over the time he had been there, it made him feel disgusted that a woman who revelled in hurting people to get their answers was having a child. She was just going to bring something into the world like him or worse. 

A squeak of trainers had him looking up. And he saw him. Being dragged out of the room. They froze. He saw him. Smaller looking. His eyes were deep and scared, his hair was greasy and limp around his face, his tanned skin almost tinted grey. Standing right in front of him was Rio. Which meant that they had caught one of them, hopefully just one of them. 

He widened his eyes slightly, hoping that Rio would understand what he was asking him. Know that he was asking if any of the others were in here. A quick shake of his head and Andrés didn’t know why but his eyes darted to the guard holding Rio. And he was new. New but in a way familiar. He felt eyes on him and risked another look, they had widened and it was almost like he knew him. 

But he didn’t get to think about it, because it was time to deal with the worst person in this place. He was ready. 

She sat looking down at her nails as he was sat and strapped down in his chair. “I assume you saw that little thing you call Rio.” she murmured, still not looking up from her perfectly painted nails. “He’s no more useful than you are. But I can try much more on him than you, less risk of him just dying on me.” She spoke like it was more irritating then upsetting to her. 

“I did.” He spoke back, “But I would love to know what we are going to try today.” She had broken his fingers, only to have them healed perfectly and start again. Stopped his pain medication for a week. Pumped some gas into a mask, which had made him laugh so hard in panic; he had passed out on the floor screaming that he was lying. She seemed more irritated that she couldn’t try what she thought would work. Walked him in circles, made him feel like he was slowly drowning and made him think that his loved ones were there for him. But somehow he never said their actual names, just pet ones. 

“See this is where the issue is.” She turned to look at him finally, “What need do I still have for you? He will be easier to brake. I can actually interrogate him, without having to deal with the mess of his body.” She flicked open the folder on the desk. Running her finger down a list, some were highlighted with crosses next to them. Other not. She stopped on one. “Oh, something new I can try. They are finally going to let me try this again.” 

She waved her hand, one man walked over, read the one her finger was resting on and walked out of the other door. The one that was hidden behind the large two-way mirror on the wall. Hiding some politician or chief of something. The people that wanted to know, how they had done it and where the others were. 

“How’s the child?” he asked, flippantly. Watching her eyes drop to her belly, where her hand was resting and dragging to meet his. 

She shrugged, “Kicks from time to time.” Her face lit up, as the door reopened and the wheels of a cart rolled in. “This is really my favourite. You and that Rio react so well to it, just trying to get the right thing out of you is the issue. It seems we need to have your mind on what we want to know.” But he couldn’t move as it was strapped around his face. 

He could taste it. Bitter and cold.

All he could see was the guns pointed at him, heard Nairobi screaming at him to leave and Helsinki dragging her away. He looked down at that girl he called his wife and got behind the gun. He lived through it all. It was so clear and remembered the pain he felt as his heart started to slow. Remembers waking up screaming in pain. 

When it is finally over, he feels his chin on his chest and it’s pulled back. Her eyes are daggers, stabbing into him. Like she can’t figure out what he was shouting. The gears were working in her brain, running through everything she had heard. Her fingers tapping over the swell of her stomach. “Oh…” It was dragged out. 

“You don’t know each other’s names.” her mouth quipped up into a shark-like smile, “That is smart, named after cities. But I doubt they have anything to do with you, most likely chosen at random.” She shifts in her seat, moving the paper she has, “We know Moscow and Oslo as you called them are dead, heard from a few hostages that Moscow referred to Denver as his son.” She hummed, “Oslo was close with Helsinki. That Mónica disappeared and they don’t know why. We have a lot of information, but nothing we can use.” She stands, waving her hand for him to be removed.

She starts walking towards the door to leave when she freezes. Her whole body stops moving. Most likely she has heard something through the earpiece she has had to wear more recently. He watches as a phone is handed to her, how she nods and places her other hand on her bump. 

She twitches and turns to face him. “Get something to show the news in here right now.” She hisses, her eyes wide and frantic. 

He is sat back down in his seat, strapped in and watches as another chair is pulled in, along with a laptop placed on the table. He sits watching her, listening to her nails tapping against the keys a little more roughly than he would expect. The door opened and Rio was led back in. Eyes wide and fearful, much like his own had been for the first eight months. 

She turned the laptop to face them, waiting for Rio to be strapped down. She tapped a key and it started to play. 

Andrés knew his eyes were wide, there were seas of red everywhere and people wearing the Dali masks. There was shouting and protesting, but then he watched as it focused on The Bank Of Spain. He kept his face calm, stretching out his back and keeping his eyes on it. They were doing their plan, but they had no reason too. They didn’t know he was still alive and they couldn’t do all this for Rio. 

Could they?

He felt his jaw tighten, while the news talked through everything so far. How they had managed to get into the bank. What they were demanding for them to let hostages out. They were doing this to get Rio, he swallowed and his head fell forward resting on his chest. Then a song starts playing and off-key voices start singing, Rio’s eyes fixate on him the minute he starts laughing. They are singing ‘Bella Ciao’. 

“We are giving them what they want. Rio will be leaving and he won’t tell them your here.” She smiles, “He’s a well-trained puppy now.” she runs a finger over his cheek. Rio recoiled and his whole body shook violently. 

His jaw clicked as he shut it, he watched as they pulled Rio up and started to walk him out of the door, that the people who were employed to talk to him used. But they didn’t catch that small pull of his lips, one that let him know that the other would know where he was. He slowly dragged his eyes back to her, watching as she ran her fingers over her stomach, then she smiled. Like a viper ready to strike and for the first time in months his stomach dropped and he let it show on his face. 

While it was a plan on his part and hope on Rio’s to tell the others he was alive and well not exactly suffering. He just hoped they could do anything. At this point, he wished he was dead because if he had to sit and watch the people he counted as a family escape and he just had to watch. That would be enough for him to finally lose that small piece of sanity he had tried to keep a hold of. 

They sat there in silence. 

Just watching the news broadcast. Listening to protestors talk about how they looked up to all of the people that had been part of this. Looked at their signs and saw pictures of his face. Oslo and Moscow were on posters as well, they had become martyrs and people were celebrating what they had given up to show how fucked current society was. It was a sea of red and Dali masks, shouting and police shoving back people with no care for how much they were hurt. 

He clenched his hands where they were on the table, watched the helicopter come into frame. See the confusion on the reporters faces. Listen to how it became silent through the crowd and the police stare as well. It was completely shocking to them let alone those who knew it was happening. 

He watched as a body was flung at the people pulling Rio over to them, his mouth went dry when he saw the way one of them moved. He knew that body like he knew his own. Still, he could taste him on his tongue and the way his body moved against his. But he had to keep his cool, they couldn’t trace who he was not when he couldn’t do anything to save him. 

He watched as Rio was pulled up by Helsinki, watched as they froze. Masked face turned to him and he could tell that they were being told, faces darted around until Martín locked onto a camera and suddenly all he could see was his masked face. He raised his hand and gave them the middle finger, and there was nothing he could do but laugh. 

This whole situation seemed to make Sierra sit up in her chair, her eyebrows furrowing and her perfectly done up face drop slightly. As if she had thought her plan would work perfectly, but then she didn’t know them as well as she had thought. She had information they had collected but she didn’t have the way they bonded over the plan and as a family. 

She had no idea of everything that could throw a spanner in her plans. 

A sharp ringing came through the window behind them and she stood, glaring at him before making her way out of the room to fid out what had happened. The reporter he was watching pressed a finger to her ear and started spouting how they were getting a live broadcast from inside. How there was one of the hostage-takers about to address the public. 

He was frozen wondering who they could use. They wouldn’t want it to be anyone that was unknown or Tokyo, she was beautiful and smart. But the coldness in her eyes never tempered, it was bright and flashing. He watched as the crews there were struggling to get the video on the screen. A masked face sat in a chair surrounded by other masked faces, with Rio sat there his battered face made more obvious by the covered ones around him. 

The door flew open and Andrés braced himself to be torn up out of his chair and dragged back to his room. But instead, she moved to look at the video playing. Her eyes wide and frantic, sweat was running down the side of her face. 

“As you see we have our dear Rio back.” He could hear his smile under the mask, “They have their man. But yet we found out that he isn’t the only one of ours they have.” He picks up a sheet of paper, “As you can guess we are just as shocked. Considering he was a terminally ill man, one that was shot to death supposedly. But then Rio informed us that they have had him the whole time and if this is what they have done to Rio in the short time they had him. What could they have possibly done to Berlin.” He turned the sheet and there was his face. 

“Now you may wonder what we could possibly do with the information we have?” A slow breath, “Well Alicia Sierra, what could we do? We have information here and well you have someone we want back.” It ended right then and the phone started to ring and there was noise everywhere. Running footsteps rang through the corridor, then a gunshot and another. 

Andrés couldn’t stop his eyes from darting to Sierra who seemed to be frozen for only a second before she stood and hurried out the door. The noise of the bolt sliding into place, made him freeze. Because while they knew they had him it wouldn’t stop them from getting rid of all the others in this place. They had no proof of this place or what happened outside of Rio he was so sure of that. 

So he sat straight-backed in the chair, waiting for whoever was shooting to come into his room and finish him as that was the only logical idea he had. They were getting rid of those they had in here so that there would no one to say if it was real. Get rid of those who were a liability. A deep breath and he closed his eyes. He was going to die empty-headed. 

His hands clenched as the door was thrown open, heavy boots covering the floor towards him. A hand slamming the laptop shut, the other on his shoulder. His hands uncuffed and a bad pulled roughly over his head. 

Time seemed to go so fast as he was guided roughly out of the place. The air got fresh for a second before rough hands shoved him backwards. He lay frozen, as his hands were cuffed in front of him and attached to his feet. He couldn’t move and he forced himself to stay calm as the closed whatever he was in. And he was sure he would be buried alive. He could feel the rumble of tires under him, feel how the material covering his face was damp and the air was only getting hotter with every minute he was in there. 

Swallowing down all the fear that was clawing its way quickly and roughly up his throat. He felt like he would vomit with the fear of what was happening. His shoulder slammed into the side as he was pulled out, he was sure he could hear the low murmur of a crowd or machines he really couldn’t focus on it. 

He closed his eyes even with how dark it was, how each breath was damp and hot. He felt like death was winding her fingers around his throat finally taking him when he could finally live. When he had the chance to become that old man drinking his wine at his vineyard. But when was life ever fair. 

He froze completely when he felt the box hit the ground, felt it be dragged and the clear sound of shouts. He really had no idea what had happened, had they just moved him to another area. Another place damp and hot under the ground. Tears started to well and his breathing picked up, he didn’t think he could take another day of this to let alone years. They probably had plans to do this till he gave them all up. Or till he died. 

He thrashed out with his arm, feeling the hard metal split his knuckle open. The pain only making him panic more because he was still alive and was about to go through so much more pain. He was going to have to breathe in that gas, feel like his hands and feet were going to fall off with the cold, and worst be forced to walk in circles till he passed out. 

He wanted to scream but the wet fabric was sticking in his mouth, his hand were stuck as his waist, his chest hurt so much and all he could hear was muffled speech. He turned trying to force the bag off his head but the more he twisted and tried, it became obvious it was tightened around his neck meaning he couldn’t take it off. 

Clips clicked at his side. He froze waiting to see what would happen, was he going to be pulled out and killed. 

“Oh.” It was so soft when he heard it, like a whisper. Then hands were touching his neck, others at his hands and feet. He stayed still, the guards that tolerated him were kind but he had no clue what would happen now. Eyes stayed screwed shut, while the bag was slowly removed and the cuffs around him were slipped off. 

“Shit. What did they do?” The voice cut through everything, his eyes sprang open and he hissed. It was so bright and his body was sore just from how tense he had been that whole time. But he knew Denver’s voice and was glad for only hearing his voice at first and not his hyena loud laugh. 

Gentle fingers ran over his brow, catching the scar that cut through his eyebrow and followed the one that ripped through his hairline. He relaxed only a little, but still couldn’t open his eyes. It was the first time in years he hadn’t been touched to cause pain, he had to savour it and turned his face into it. If only for a second. 

“What did they do to you?” His voice was so soft, the fingers on his face just as. “Look at you.” A thumb dragged along his jaw and Andrés’ mouth dropped open, panting. “Open your eyes.” It was gentle and a hand, guided his up so it was touching a scratchy cheek. So he opened his eyes, focused completely on him. “There you are.” The voice was warm and he hated it. He didn’t deserve that after what he had done to him. 

He was shaking and heard voices surround him. He couldn’t breath quick enough. It was like he was drowning again. Nothing felt right and when he was pulled up he started kicking out, they were not taking him back and he knew he was shouting that as they dragged him onto cold stone. Screaming about how they couldn’t fool him again, his knuckles throbbed as he punched out. He kept screaming until it went black. 

When he opened his eyes, all he could see was a sea of faces looking at him. Some looked completely petrified of him while others looked full of pity, turning away he felt the body he was leaning against breath. “You are going to be okay, Berlin.” Helsinki murmured, “Helsinki patched you up and Tokyo helped change you.” His eyes darted down to the red overalls, they were the most familiar thing he had felt in years. 

It was their plan alright, he recognised where he was in the building. Tried to work out where they were in the plan and how they managed to get more people in on the plan and who was this Helsinki who they trusted to care for him along with Tokyo. 

Although it was solved quickly when the head of blonde curls walked over to him, her hand was soft as she ran her fingers over his knuckles. She smiled and he was still unsure how this woman had fallen in love with Denver, but he could completely understand it. 

“We heard from Rio what they did to him.” She sighed and looked him directly in the eyes, “We saw what they did to you, guessed what could have happened.” He ripped his face from her hands, they had never crossed that line. It had been torture but they had never used his body, not even the guards had. 

“Not that. They never did that.” 

The body behind him relaxed as if he was worried that it had happened. Her face brightened at that, “Okay. I’ll get Palermo, he’s been busy trying to figure how we will get out of here. The original plan won’t work anymore.” His face must have changed because she stood, “Or we will go to him.” 

He made his way to stand, limping slightly and following her. Eyes followed him and when he was about to leave one woman spoke up. “Who did this to you?” She was bold but he didn’t see the point in hiding it. 

Licking his lips, “Our Government. The police.” He huffed out a laugh, “Although it was one woman who came up with it all, Alicia Sierra. She made them heal me, so she could break me day after day.” A low whisper followed him as he left the room. He had to take his time getting to the door where Palermo was, he knew from the name that it had to be Martín. The door opened and he saw him talking frantically on the phone, Rio sat at his side and Nairobi stood with her gun facing the door. 

She smiled at him as he walked through and Palermo as he was called now looked at him. He swallowed, “I have an idea how we could get out.” All eyes dragged to him, “It’s not like I have had much to think about for the past three years.” he tried to make light of it, but the grimace that covered all their faces told him it didn’t land. 

Palermo walked towards him, his arm slipping around his waist guiding him to the phone. Where he could hear his brother’s frantic voice trying to work out how he had survived, which as he pointed out was not the most important topic of conversation at the moment. He sat slowly in the chair, his eyes finally taking in Martín’s face. Which he longed to touch and feel. The stubble, the scabs that covered his eyes, move the eyepatch to get a better look at his eyes. Ones that were so full of pain the last time he had seen them. 

But he had to focus. So he spoke with his brother, who seemed confused at how he hadn’t come up with this plan. They had all the pieces they would need and it was simple as an escape plan went, even the hostages would profit from taking part. It was agreed pretty quickly that this would be the way that would only work. They were given a schedule of how they would work this out, and the escape would be worked out easily. But they were going to be giving the last video out to the public, one which would show exactly what had happened to Berlin. 

Soon the others were leaving to let the others know of the plan. Which left them in the room alone together. But Palermo still had his hand on him, as he couldn’t quite believe he was there. 

The silence was deafening and he just wanted to apologise for what he did. He slipped his hand into his and pulled so they were looking at each other. “I have never regretted anything in my life like leaving you.” his other hand slipping behind his neck, “I can’t forgive myself for lying to you. I said I wouldn’t but I had too. If you had been there, you would be dead or where I was.” His voice was shaking and when he blinked it felt wet. “I couldn’t stand the thought of that happening to you. I couldn’t stand of the world being without you.” 

A hand slipped behind his neck and pulled him forwards, their foreheads pressed together and their breath intermingling. 

“I hated you. I wanted you to die. I wanted to kill you.” The words cut but he understood, “But I got over it, I met someone who I think might make me feel something. But then I saw your face and I hated that you still have this pull.” 

Andrés knew this wasn’t the time or place. He knew with every part of his body that he really shouldn’t do this. Not when Martín had a chance at actual happiness with someone who had never broken his heart, someone that was mentally okay and could give him everything he wanted without making him doubt that what they felt was true. 

But when did he ever stop himself from doing what he really wanted? It was nothing but a brush of lips. Barely anything and their eyes were open. It was as far from romance as it could get. But it didn’t stop the sob from falling from Martín’s lips or him pressing them back together, the kiss was barely anything more than a simple press of lips; until he couldn’t help it. 

He couldn’t explain how he found himself sitting on the desk, legs spread with Martín pressed between his legs. Kissing him harder and with more passion than on that fateful night so many years ago. They were making noise only for each other’s ears, moans and groans at this earth-shaking kiss. Hands never disappeared under clothes, but the boilersuits were pushed down to hips. Fingers just brushed visible scars they both had. 

They were shocked out of their reunion when Helsinki cleared his throat and the look on Martíns face betrayed that he was the one that had made him feel something since him. And Andrés felt shame wash over his body, he hadn’t just broken one heart; it was two. 

It was quiet as he walked into the room and started setting up the camera. He didn’t really say a word. Just aimed it at the area in front of the desk and smailed before he slipped the mask over his face, motioning for Martín to do the same. 

The video was short and embarrassing. Andrés slowly stripped himself down, explaining what had been done to cause some scars, which caused his body to look like it did. Telling of each different torture techniques they had used on him. 

What he hadn’t expected once it was done was Helsinki to walk over and place his large hands on his bare shoulders and squeeze. Telling him without words that he was going to be okay, that he didn’t blame him. He was silent but he always could speak more through his eyes. 

The rest of his time was readying the hostages, getting all the people well rested and fed. They seemed keener to help once he and Rio had come back like they couldn’t believe that they had done this to people. He had sat with Rio talking about what they had both suffered. Readying him for getting out in the world again. 

In the morning they released the tape. From what Sergio said it had gone viral very quickly, people all over the world were stirred up with what he had dealt with and gone through simply so that they could retrieve money. 

All of them got dressed up, left the guns cleaned down and in a pile. Everything they could possibly be left was dumped, they teamed up in twos. All people were given cases, only theirs contained the gold but it also included secrets from the vaults. Which were to be forwarded to groups who could do with the information as they so pleased. 

In twos, they waited to open the doors and they were told to stay in twos and walk out slowly until everyone was out, then to run towards the journalists. Sergio and Raquel had a fake news van they were to run too, climb in and then they were gone. The journey was all set out. This time they were staying together considering the first time hadn’t worked. 

Taking a deep breath they all walked out, the crowd outside screamed and cheered as they walked out. But they all stayed calm including the hostages, then they split and sprinted towards the two groups of journalists. Masks were pealed off as they started telling their stories right to the cameras. Making the police frantic trying to get through them and into the bank, to capture the criminals. They had barely any where the hostages were. 

They sat in the back of the vans as they trundled down the street, no one looked at them. Mainly focused on their phones as the alert went off. 

Andrés leaned back against Martín’s chest, his arm wrapped round his chest, waiting till they got to that small island. He felt his lips smiling against his neck and watched as Nairobi and Tokyo stared at them. Smiling at them, till Nairobi looked up at Martín and mouthed sorry. 

While he frowned he just wasn’t in the mood to try and find out what that was about. He felt calm and safe for the first time in years and all it had taken was having these arms round him and listening to his brothers frantic chatter from the front of the van. The arms never left his as they climbed onto the private jet, not when he walked into the small beach house that his brother had built for each of them around his large main house. 

It was months before he and Martín did more than kiss and hold each other. He still had frequent panic attacks and would wake up screaming. The others were getting less shocked by it, with him and Rio suffering the way they did. 

But it was one night when he was laying, Martín kissing him pressed between his open legs. Feeling the heat of each other and he didn’t want to just kiss until they both got hard and had to separate and deal with it themselves. Martín went to pull away and he gripped his thighs around his hips, making his eyes open and lock with his own. 

A lick of lips and he had a mouth on his neck, licking him and marking him; he couldn’t keep his fingers out of his hair. And he knew he was being loud but it felt so good to finally let himself give over this part he had been so scared to do so with. His hand was gripping so tight on the pillow under his head and he was arching his back towards the lips dragging down his chest. Tightening his thighs on his waist, and his cock was so hard in his boxers. Straining the material and making him want to reach down and grab himself and cum. 

But instead, he forced himself to hold onto the pillow above. Moving his hips in any way to try and get some friction. Hands grabbing onto his hips made him look down at the pink swollen lips that had been on his skin, he was breathing so hard and slammed back on the bed as teeth dragged across his thighs; while fingers peeled the boxers from his hips. Dropping them from the bed and lips moved closer to where he both craved and feared to have them. It had been so long since someone had touched there. 

A drag of tongue and fingers grasped him and he pushed himself up on his toes, trying to get closer. And he heard the soft chuckle and the press of his hips to the bed. The noise was nothing if not dirty, dragging him closer with every wet suck of a mouth on his cock and if he looked down he saw Martín’s other hand touching himself. 

This isn’t what he wanted though. 

With every piece of strength, he had left he pulled him from where he had been sucking him into madness and dragged them so they were kissing. He could feel the wet drag of their cocks against each other and he couldn’t stop his mind from thinking about how it would feel inside of him. 

“Martín. Please.” he mumbled between kisses, a frown formed on his face and he leaned back. “Martín, please. I want to feel you.” he gasped as a thrust of hips shocked him. “I need you in me. Just please. Don’t make me beg to feel you cum inside of me.” 

It was quick watching him lean back on his calves, get the lube out of the drawer and slather his fingers. They glistened in the low light, his cock twitching at the sight of it. 

He took his time with each finger, working him up and stretching him out. Making sure he was moaning for more before he would even give him what he wanted. His skin was slick with sweat and his muscles were screaming with how tense he was, just wanting to feel his cock inside. Filing him up and making him cum all over his own stomach. 

His whole body kept twitching with every murmur of how loved he was, it was driving closer as the fingers were. Which resulted in him slapping a hand over Martín’s mouth so he wouldn’t just cum right then and there. The smile against his fingers had him laughing, it felt like nothing he had truly had before. 

Burning, that’s all he could think as he finally pushed in. His body jolting as he felt him so deep inside, it felt so different to any other time he had slept with men. They lay with Martín keeping his body slightly away from his, foreheads pressed together and his arms wrapped around his neck. 

No movement, just the feeling of this finally happening, the heat between them stifling and the slight jerks of hips trying not to move. Just trying to savour this first. 

But it got too much and then it was fast. Loud groans and the slap of skin, constant whispers of how much they had both dreamed of it. Martín couldn’t stop telling him how good he felt, how he wished he could be inside him all the time, how perfect he was for him and how much he loved him. 

He came listening to “God I love you.” moaned into his ear, it was fast hearing the loud moan and the stuttering of hips against his. It was far to fast for men of their age, but it didn’t change the fact it was perfect. 

Grimacing as he pulled out and rolled to the other side of the bed. He couldn’t help the stupid smile on his face. He finally understood what love was. 

It was finally giving himself the ability to feel everything, with one person that would hold him. Someone who loved him no matter what he was like. It was the ability to love someone the exact same way. It was like having a near-constant eclectic current running under his skin. Like they shared energy.

**Author's Note:**

> Uh yeah, this was meant to be a 1k smut fic, guess what that didn't happen. Hope you liked it? Um, I already know that I will get some shit for making Berlin the bottom here, but I don't care. If you did like my not quite like themselves fic let me know.


End file.
